Читать книгу My Guilty Pleasure - Jamie Denton - Страница 7

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JOEY ZIPPED UP her jeans and winced, certain the sound echoed so loudly throughout the sparsely furnished room it could be heard in the next apartment. She knew she was being silly, but she was hoping to escape without waking Sebastian. Or more honestly, hoping to avoid an awkward situation.

Only hours ago, just before she’d eventually fallen asleep sprawled across Sebastian’s chest, the pinkish gray fingers of dawn had been creeping across the city’s winter skyline. Without a clock handy, she’d guessed the hour now to be somewhere in the vicinity of noon. She snagged her watch from the nightstand for confirmation. Twelve-twenty.

God, why had she slept with him? Not that she hadn’t enjoyed every perfect second, but that was beside the point. In two days she’d have to face him again, fully clothed this time, and she had every intention of pretending last night never happened. A feat she imagined would be next to impossible. Especially now. They’d made love again and again, taking their time to fully explore each other’s bodies. It’d been beautiful, sweet, and had caused something to stir deep inside her—something other than her libido.

Oh, yeah. She was so out of there, if only to distance herself from the memory of their lovemaking and that strange little flutter she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, explain.

She crept around the bed in search of her bra and found it dangling from the edge of a tall moving carton near the closet. After slipping into it, she scooped up her top a few feet away and pulled it on as well. Her boots lay on the floor near Sebastian’s side of the bed. As quietly as possible, she stooped to pick them up, but couldn’t find her socks.

Full sunlight streamed through the windows, which made it easy for her to see them peeking out from under the bed, but she practically had to crawl beneath it to snag them. Her breathing stilled when she heard Sebastian stir.

Please don’t wake up.

Slowly, she lifted her head, peeked over the edge of the mattress and let out a startled gasp. Sebastian lay on his side, his head propped in his hand, staring down at her…and wearing nothing but a lazy smile.

Damn. So much for escaping unnoticed.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice thick from sleep.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He chuckled. “Sure you didn’t.” His thick hair was mussed and his smile went from lazy to cocky. The man looked way too sexy and far too tempting for a woman filled with morning-after regret.

“Um…I have to water my plants.” The excuse was beyond lame, and from the skeptical light that entered those dark, bedroom eyes, they both knew it. But dammit, he seriously rocked her composure. What did he expect? A Rhodes scholar?

She dropped onto the edge of the bed to slip on her socks. He shifted beside her and brought his body closer to hers. Warning bells went off in her head. Lordy, but the temptation to crawl beneath the covers with him again was tough to resist.

He smoothed his hand down her back. She thought about the pleasure those hands could bring her and her resolve nearly crumbled.

She stiffened her spine.

“We have a problem, Joey.”

“Great deduction, Watson.”

He ignored her sass. “I want to see you again.”

A different kind of regret filled her. In all honesty, she’d love nothing more than to spend more time with Sebastian, in and out of bed, but it was out of the question. Forget that he was technically her supervisor, he was smart, sexy and dangerous. The kind of guy that could easily break her heart. The kind she could easily fall for…hard.

She shoved her foot into her boot and tugged. “Sorry,” she said with a shrug as she glanced down at him. “It’s pumpkin time, Cinderella.”

He frowned. “It’s only Saturday.”

“Can’t,” she said brusquely, then pulled on her other boot. “I’m busy.”

She wasn’t. She had no plans whatsoever until tomorrow afternoon, but he didn’t need to know that. Although Molly would more than likely have worked herself into a feline snit by the time she did get home. Her persnickety cat didn’t appreciate being left to her own devices all night and half the day, but a treat and some cuddle time would smooth her leopardlike fur to some degree.

She cast a quick glance in his direction. If his narrow-eyed stare was any indication, he wasn’t buying her line of BS. Too bad. She needed time to distance herself from him, to regain her composure before she faced him in the office Monday morning.

Good luck.

She let out a sigh and stood. “I think it’s best if we just pretend last night never happened.” She located her leather jacket near the bedroom door and shrugged into it.

He swung his feet to the floor and came off the bed in one easy movement. Heaven help her, she stared. She just couldn’t help herself. In the light of day, Sebastian Stanhope was even more glorious.

The erection he was sporting wasn’t half-bad, either.

Heat rushed to her face and she lifted her gaze to his. “I had a lovely time,” she said in a nervous rush, “but I really do have to go home.” To take a cold shower.

Her throat constricted when he crossed the room. Those pleasure-giving hands settled on her upper arms, sending tiny tremors of delight chasing over her skin.

“Stay with me today.”

She bit her lip. The man was temptation personified. And trouble, with a big fat T.

She shook her head and looked away. “I can’t,” she said, hating that she had no choice but to deny him. Hating even more the regret so blatantly evident in her voice.

He tucked his fingers under her chin and gently turned her to face him. “Another time, another place?”

No truer words, she thought sadly. “Yeah,” she whispered in agreement. “Another time.”

He dipped his head and kissed her. Deeply, tenderly. Fool that she was, she kissed him back, enjoying this last parting moment even though her heart suddenly ached. Because there’d be no more kisses for them? Ever? Or because she’d already started falling for him?

She refused to even consider the answer. Regretfully, she ended the kiss. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”

She spun on her heel and left. By the time she hit the pavement, her hopes that the next two days would be long enough for her to convince herself that making love to Sebastian hadn’t been a monumental and earth-shattering experience were practically nonexistent.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

Joey didn’t appreciate the accusation in Brooke’s tone, but figured it was her guilty conscience making her feel mildly agitated. “I turned off my cell.”

“Since when don’t you check for messages?”

“Gee,” she said, standing back to let her older sister inside the small foyer of the carriage house, “nice to see you, too.”

Brooke set a large shopping bag with the Worthington logo on the front on the antique bench. She worked at the department store as a window dresser. “These are for Reba,” she said, unwinding a wool scarf from her neck. “I thought she might like them.”

Joey peered into the bag, but the clothing items were all carefully wrapped in delicate tissue paper. That was so Brooke, she thought. “Didn’t we go through all of Mom’s things a couple of months ago?”

“We did.” Brooke hung her scarf on the hook by the door, then shrugged out of her wool coat. “I found those in the back of Mom’s closet.”

“And you brought them here because…?”

“Because you said you were taking Reba to lunch next week.”

Since their mother’s passing, she, Brooke and Katie had taken to looking in on Reba, their mother’s oldest and closest friend. Joey managed a weak smile. “Ah, yes,” she murmured. She’d forgotten, primarily because her mind had been elsewhere. Like on Sebastian.

“I was about to make some tea. Want some?”

Brooke rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “Perfect. It’s freezing out there today.”

“Amazing how that happens every January.” Joey flashed her sister a saucy grin, then took off for the kitchen. She had the kettle filled and on the stove by the time Brooke joined her.

Joey reached into the cabinet for a teak serving tray, then carefully brought down a pair of delicate china cups and the matching teapot. “Are you coming to dinner next week?”

Brooke shrugged and looked away. “I’m not sure.”

Joey let out a sigh, although she understood her sister’s reluctance to walk inside the lion’s den. “The Admiral keeps asking about you.”

Ever since Brooke had dropped the bomb on her grandparents that she wasn’t a Winfield by birth, her relationship with their grandmother had been strained at best. Joey suspected the tension in their relationship stemmed not so much because of Brooke’s parentage, but because of the scandalous photos of a topless Brooke and Boston’s bad boy, David Carrera, that had shown up in the tabloids. Heaven forbid a Winfield should cause tongues to wag.

“I’ll think about it,” Brooke said, but Joey doubted the subject was usually far from Brooke’s mind. Familial duty had always been high on her elder sister’s list of priorities.

Brooke crossed her arms and leaned back against the ceramic-tiled counter. “So, where were you?”

It was Joey’s turn to shrug. “Nowhere important.” She aimed for nonchalance but ended up closer to high-pitched and guilt-ridden. What was she supposed to say? That she’d spent the night boffing her new boss’s brains out? And enjoying every glorious second of it?

She added tea leaves to the strainer before sliding a quick glance in Brooke’s direction. Her sister gave her one of those looks, the kind only an older sister had the secret password to. The kind that said she knew Joey was full of crap.

Brooke offered one of her more irritating smiles. “So? Who is he?”

Joey concentrated on cutting into the leftover crumb coffee cake she’d pilfered from her grandmother’s cook. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“That all depends on how you might define ‘seeing him again,’” Joey answered cryptically. Technically, she’d be spending a great deal of time with Sebastian, but not in the way Brooke meant.

The teakettle started to whistle. “Saved by the whistle.”

“Bell,” Brooke corrected.

“Whatever. A distraction is a distraction as far as I’m concerned. I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’re not getting off that easy,” Brooke said with a laugh as Joey poured the steaming water into the teapot. “Now I really want details. Who is this guy?”

She refused to make a big deal out of her one-time-only, never-gonna-happen-again night of sexual bliss with Sebastian. What was the point?

“Joey?”

Joey popped the crumb cake slices into the microwave and pressed the reheat button. “You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

Brooke’s irritating smile widened. “Nope.”

The microwave dinged. Joey arranged the dessert plates on the tray along with the items for tea.

“He’s my boss,” she said in a rush. She picked up the tray and hurried into the cozy living room, as if that would be the end of the conversation. With her sisters, not gonna happen.

A fire burned in the stone fireplace. Molly lay curled on the arm of the chintz chair near the leaded glass window overlooking the winter dormant garden.

Brooke joined her, concern evident in her soft brown eyes. “Define ‘boss.’”

“Oh, no, not any of them.” Joey shuddered, knowing Brooke was thinking of one of the three middle-aged senior partners of the firm. “The new guy they hired to head up the litigation division.” Last night when she’d met her sisters for dinner, she’d mentioned the new guy the partners had recruited from a Miami firm, and how she’d been relegated to second chair in Gilson v. Pierce. One thing sleeping with Sebastian hadn’t changed—her disappointment and irritation over having the lead counsel position on the Gilson matter taken away from her.

Joey shooed Molly from the chair, while Brooke poured tea. “My new boss,” she admitted, taking the teacup Brooke held out for her. “Sebastian Stanhope.”

“Stanhope?” At Joey’s nod, Brooke asked, “Is he any relation to Emerson Stanhope?”

The Stanhopes were one of Boston’s oldest and most prominent families. In fact she was fairly certain Emerson and her father had once had some sort of business dealings. “Uh…” Joey hedged, “I don’t know. That’s a subject that never came up.”

Brooke set her cup on the table. “Joey—”

“Don’t say it.” Joey dropped a sugar cube into her cup and stirred. “It was a one-time thing and trust me, one that won’t be happening again.”

“Did you know who he was before you slept with him?” Brooke asked, adding a splash of cream to her Earl Grey.

Joey scrunched up her nose and nodded. “Not one of my smarter decisions.” But one she wouldn’t apologize for, either. Regardless of the ethics involved, and no matter how plain stupid her choice had been, she simply could not regret making love to Sebastian. Not completely.

“Joey, how did this happen?” There was no accusation or even judgment in Brooke’s tone, only concern.

Joey leaned back and pulled her feet up onto the chair. She recounted how she’d gone to Rosalie’s last night and had been rendered temporarily insane by the instantaneous attraction between her and Sebastian. When she finished, she set her empty teacup on the rosewood side table and let out a sigh. “I plead hormones,” she said. “It’s a valid affirmative defense.”

“I doubt that.” Brooke tapped her fingernail against the side of her cup. “So what happens now?”

“Nothing,” Joey said adamantly. Molly hopped into her lap and rubbed her head against Joey’s hand, demanding affection. She smoothed her hand over the cat’s thick fur. “Monday morning I go into the office and pretend Friday night never happened.”

“For your sake,” Brooke said, “I really do hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Joey said firmly. She dropped her head against the back of the chair, hoping she was right.

“SO HOW DOES IT feel being back in the old neighborhood?” Hunter McAllister asked around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

Sebastian twisted the cap off the bottle of beer and chucked it halfway across the living room into the cardboard box pulling temporary duty as a trash bin. “Cold,” he said to his childhood friend. “I’d forgotten how freaking cold it can get up here.”

He didn’t bother to remind Hunter that the revitalized North End of Boston was hardly the rough South Boston neighborhood where they’d spent their youth. Even though Sebastian had decided to live in the North End, in his heart, they would always be Southies.

Hunter balanced his beer bottle on his knee. “Why you’d give up year-round bathing beauties for Beacon Hill snobs is beyond me.”

“Right,” Sebastian said. “If a woman has a pulse, you’re interested.”

“Hey, is it my fault women have a thing for a man in uniform?”

Sebastian seriously doubted Hunter’s Boston P.D. uniform had anything to do with it. His friend had been a chick magnet for as long as Sebastian could remember.